


How We Left Things

by schrodingers_bee



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 3, Rated Teen For Strong Language, basically writing therapy for me to get over s3, sam and ruth being stubborn af, told from both perspectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodingers_bee/pseuds/schrodingers_bee
Summary: Being the stubborn idiots they are, Sam and Ruth desperately need the voices of reason in their lives to talk some sense into them and bring them back together.(Set post 3x10 because I can't get over the fact that they were this close to getting together)





	1. The Letters

**Sam**

Having spent a significant part of his adult life in a constant cycle of drunk and hungover, Sam woke up surprised to find that for the third morning in a row his old friend, the throbbing headache, hadn’t welcomed him as he regained consciousness. He smiled against the dull urge, in the back of his mind, the pull the half empty bottles from the trash.

_ Certain things are harder to quit than booze. Remember?  _

A bitter voice reminded him in his head.

He flinched and reached for his pack of Marlboros, only inches away from his grasp, when Justine marched into his room with a face of thunder, planting herself at the foot of his bed. Wracking his brain for the object of her frustration (he created a lengthy list of possibilities within seconds) his eyes fell on the letter in her hand with the all too familiar and dreaded stamp of the  caduceus. 

The hospital.

_ Fuck. _

“Why the fuck do you have a cardiology check-up?”

“That’s private, Justine.” Sam growled, sitting up.

“Not from me it isn’t.”

“Just give me the fucking letter.”

“No.”

“Justine…” Sam challenged, finding that his threatening don’t-you-dare-test-me-on-this parental voice sounded much like Rosalie’s.

“Dad!” Justine choked, tears brimming.

Sam gaped, stunned by her outburst, “Jusー”

“Whatー what did you mean when you said you dying may happen sooner than we think? In the diner. Yesterday.” Furiously wiping the tears from her face.

Sam put his head in his hands, rubbing his stubble nervously.

“I had a heart attack. After that meeting, you know, when you wanted to celebrate selling the film.”

“Wー what?!”

“Jesus, you know, when I gave you the car keys and told you to piss off.”

“Fucking hell Sam!” Throwing the already screwed up letter to the ground, “Why the fuck did you not fucking tell me?”

“I’m telling you now!” 

“IT WAS SIX FUCKING MONTHS AGO!”

“I THOUGHT I WAS DYING FOR FUCK'S SAKE!”

Justine tried to utter a response, but nothing came out.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Huh? I watched my mother deteriorate and die in a hospital bed and if I can prevent you from having to see that shit for as long as possible, if ever, then I can die knowing I did something fucking decent with my life; knowing that, despite all the shit I’ve put you through, I did something good as a father.”

“So you’d rather leave me knowing that you died alone.”

Sam shrugged, “The guy who called the ambulance was there.”

“You fucking jerk.” Justine snarled, marching towards him. For a split second, he thought she was going to attack him and almost flinched before realising that she was hugging him. Her head rested on his shoulder she sniffled, 

“You’re not going to die, okay?”

“Well, I am one day.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.” Sam smiled.

“Anything else you’re hiding from me?”

“Ah, yes,” he quipped, “Arnold, my other long lost kid, he’s coming round later.”

“Ha, ha(!)” She sniffled, “But seriously, no more secrets, okay?”

Pulling away, Sam sighed, “Then I suppose I ought to tell you about Ruth.” Opening his bedside drawer to the pile of performance reports that he came to acknowledge, along with their sender, as one of his many addictions. 

~~~

“Fuck… I had no idea she would be that upset.”

Sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, Sam sighed, relieved to finally confess to someone what transpired to the best and worst night of his life. 

“No, no, no. It’s you’re movie. It’s your call. I didn’t think; I shouldn’t have asked her to come.”

“Really?”

“Fuck!” Sam groaned, banging his head gently against the table. “I don’t know! Part of me just wanted to see her, I guess.”

“Well that’s not much of a surprise given you’ve been in love with her since fucking forever.”

Sam raised his head, eyebrows furrowed, “I didn’t say that. Who said that?”

“Jeez man, nobody. But it’s not that hard to see. I’ve had enough middle school boys pull my hair to know what a crush looks like.”

“Are you saying I’m a middle school boy?” He scoffed.

“I’m saying you have the fucking social skills of one.”

Sam grumbled, knowing there was no way he was winning that argument. 

“Go to her.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh,” She huffed, “that totally sounded like a line from a fucking romance film, just do it, okay? Go. To. Her. You love her, she loves you, but given that you’re two of the most stubborn people on the planet you’re never gonna get anywhere unless one of you actually does something about it.”

“So why do I have to go to her?”

“Because I’m not yelling at Ruth!”

“Fucking hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick few things; the caduceus is just a fancy way of saying the symbol of the staff with two snakes and wings. 
> 
> Also any compliments (or criticisms) are 100% welcome!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. The Call

**Ruth**

“Ruthie, darling, Debbie’s on the phone for you.” Her mother chirped from downstairs.

Diverting her attention from the posters that littered the wall of her childhood bedroomー that recently had compelled her to wonder just how näive she had been when she pinned them upーshe marched into the hall and picked up the phone.

“What do you want Debbie?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Ruth?!”

Ruth sighed, “Goodbye.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” She called out hurriedly, rolling her eyes, “We’ll talk about something else, okay? I miss you.” She paused, “Oh wow, I forgot to ask, did you talk to Sam when you were in L.A.?”

Silence.

“Ruth?”

“How’s Randy?”

“Don’t avoid the question Ruth. What happened?”

“I told him I loved him…”

“Yes?”

“...and he kissed me…”

“Oh my god!”

“...and then I fucked it up!” She managed before bursting into tears.

“I’m sorry, whーwhat?”

“Heーhe told me I didn’t get the part beーbefore things went any further andー andー and then I just started yelling all these horrible things at him!”

“Jesus Christ,” Debbie muttered. “Ruth if I tell you something will you promise me not to immediately hang up.”

“Mhm.” She sniffled.

“I love you Ruth, okay, but you and Sam are two of the most self-destructive people to walk the fucking earth and I can’t believe I’m saying this but Sam ended up being a gentleman by telling you. You know that it wasn’t personalー Justine and Sam both adore you; and you know that sometimes it doesn’t matter how good you are, the writers just want to move a part in a different direction to the one you take it in. You know this, Ruth. Also, I mean frankly, I’m not sure I understand the appeal to Sam given, well, every fucking interaction I’ve had with him, but you have a chance at real happiness here. Don’t fuck it up.”

Ruth huffed, remaining silent. 

“Fine. Whatever Ruth. Do whatever the fuck you like.”

Moving to slam down the phone, Ruth paused to hear Debbie’s shrunken voice say, 

“Actually no, Ruth. Shit, are you still here?”

“Hm.” She muttered, the phone placed back against her ear.

“Remember I said that Mark owes me for the rest of his natural life?”

“Hm.” She repeated stubbornly.

Debbie sighed, silently praying that Randy would be nowhere near as difficult in his teenage years, 

“Well, so do you Ruth.”

Ruth flinched.

“And I’m only going to cash it in once, okay, so you better fucking listen. Go talk to Sam, okay? Because you deserve to be happy and unless I mercilessly guilt trip you into it you’re never going to stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Oh wait, I lied. I also want you to at least think about my offer.”

“Debbieー”

“ーRuth. You are an amazing actress. But you’re also a brilliant storyteller, director and producer. I’ve seen it countless times, so fuck anyone who thinks otherwise. None of them will matter when I, if we, call the shots. Just give Eden some thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

No longer sure about what to say to one another, they paused, listening to the sound of each other’s breath.

“Call him, Ruthie.”


	3. The Interrogation

**Sam**

Stood outside Ruth’s gleaming white, picket fenced, suburban childhood home, Sam Sylvia realised two things.

First of all, it became abundantly clear to him how Ruth turned out to be so, well, Ruth. 

Secondly, he mused with a grin, shaving his stubble was likely to have been the best decision he ever made. Given he was about to meet the Wilder’s, anything that reduced the I’m-stalking-your-daughter vibe, that he was definitely going to give off, was a blessing. 

Knocking sharply on the door before he could think to run, Sam listened to the footsteps coming closer and closer to the一

“Oh, hello,” a petite woman, with Ruth’s curly brown hair, save a few graying roots, and wide blue eyes, remarked, “can I help you?”

“Uh, yes, I’m, I’m Sam Sylvia, I work with your daughter Ruth. I was wondering if I could talk to her.”

“Oh! Of course!” She beamed, beckoning him in, “Ruthie talks about you all the time, come in, come in! She’s in the shower but she should be down soon.”

Within what seemed like seconds, Sam found himself being herded into a catalogue-pristine living room, sat opposite the mother of the love of his fucking life, with a mug of tea in his hand he scarcely remembered being placed there. Despite the burning hatred of tea residing inside his, most likely coffee stained, heart, he took a fervent gulp to distract himself from the unnervingly familiar eyes boring into him. 

However, this wasn’t Sam’s first rodeo, he knew what an interrogation looked like.

Clearing his throat, between more measured sips of the scalding leaf juice in front of him, he croaked out,

“So where’s Mr Wilder?”

“Oh bless,” She smiled warmly, “he’s stuck at work for most of the break this year.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.” he lied, desperately hoping that between the couple, the interrogator in front of him played bad cop to all the poor sods that came in there, looking to speak, or ‘speak’, to their daughter. 

“So, Sam, what did you want to discuss with Ruth?”

“Uh, work. A story line.”

“And where did you say you travelled from?”

He didn’t.

“L.A.”

“Ah. Over a thousand miles for a storyline.” She chuckled softly, “Must be good.”

“It is.”

She nodded for him to continue.

_ Shit, I really should have seen that coming. _

“Right, uh. So you must know that Ruth plays a heel, aーa villain,” he clarified, quickly, “on the show, but I was thinking of a flashback to before she turned evil. She, uh, Zoya, is in love,"

_ Well,  _ Sam mused silently,  _ the best lies are the ones closest to the truth. _

“but she must wrestle with her own insecurity about her career as a, uh, Soviet spy to be with him. And uh, her lover, well he has to wrestle with his, uh, inability to change. But instead of mentally fighting it, they’ll actually fight embodiments of it; it’s a method we’ve dappled in on the show,” He added, smiling to himself, “Ruth actually came up with it. Anyway, in the end, they both lose their fights and the audience get an insight into how she became well, the Destroya.”

“That doesn’t make sense at all.” A voice behind him snorted. Sam spun around to see Ruth, leaning against the door frame, in her usual baggy clothes, drying her hair with a towel. 

“How come?” He challenged, conflicted between feeling slightly protective of the storyline he just pulled out of his ass, under the intense gaze of her mother, and relieved that she didn’t throw him out the moment she laid eyes on him.

“Well, it’s quite obvious that the guy should win his match, it makes it that much sadder when Zoya loses hersー” She argued, looking down, briefly, in shame, “which by the way needs to be a two-against-one match because she is also deeply self-destructive.”

“Ruthie, darling I must say this is quite the peculiar job you have.”

“I know.” She laughed, “But I love it.” Her gaze fell on Sam.

“So do I.” He grinned up at her.


	4. The Confessions

**Ruth**

Watching Sam pour his second cup of coffee, sat on the kitchen counter, Ruth’s heart began to pound. Without the buffer of her mother and thinly veiled wrestling metaphors, she had no idea how they were going to navigate their way through this conversation. Each of their confessions of love had ended in disaster and so far neither of them had uttered a single word since entering the kitchen. 

“So your mom’s fucking intense.”

Ruth laughed, shaking her head, “Oh god, I know.”

“How much of that conversation did you hear exactly?”

Grinning, she retorted, “Enough to know you would do awfully in an improv class.”

“Funny.” He sneered, teasingly.

“But you weren’t wrong.”

“Hm?”

“I am insecure, always have been. And when those insecurities are stoked I lash out. I do stupid fucking shit likeー well, other people’s husbands, and I push away the people I love.” 

Her eyes lingered on Sam’s.

“And these last few months I feel I’ve started to watch everyone else grow into themselves and I’m just stuck in the same place I was last year. I mean, Carmen’s going off to wrestle with her brothers, Justine’s just sold a screenplay, Debbie’s becoming the president of a TV network Bash is buyingー”

“Jesus, what?!”

“Don’t ask.” Ruth groaned, before continuing, “ー and Sheila may have done the most iconic Liza Minnelli impression I have ever seen, God, she’s a better actress than I am after one acting class. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier for them all, but I just dread the day that I become the one who just never moved on after GLOW.”

Sam shook his head and gazed at Ruth with a tenderness that she spent far too long ignoring,

“Ruth, how is it that the only one who doesn’t see how fucking amazing you are is you? You have far more to offer the world than doing bad accents in leotards and you know it.” He scoffed, “If anyone should be insecure, it should be me. I’m an old man with a seventeen year old daughter who’s written something far better than anything I could ever write, on her first fucking try.”

“You’re not an old man yet.”

“Ruth, I had a heart attack.” He confessed, watching as the weight of his admission rolled over her.

“Sam.” Staggering off her perch, taking his face in her hands, stroking his neck like she did in the bar, Ruth desperately looked for something to say.

_ I’m sorry _

_ I love you. _

“When?”

“Just after Justine sold the screenplay.”

“Oh my god.”

“But listen Ruth,” Taking her hands in his, “Iー fuck, it made me realise what I have to live for.” 

Looking down at her hands, almost instinctively stroking his, he continued,

“Remember when you told me GLOW gave you people who cared enough to visit you in the ER?”

Ruth nodded.

“Well, GLOW gave me people who actually want me to be better; people who I want to be better for. I want to be healthier, to get clean, sober. I want to watch Justine grow up into who I’m sure will be the most formidable writer in Hollywood.”

Ruth laughed, her eyes glistening,

“I want, I want to be with you Ruth.”

  
Wiping away the brimming tears from Sam’s eyes, Ruth placed a tender, light kiss on his lips, free of the carnal  _ i-can’t-believe-this-is-happening  _ desperation that had fueled their last embrace, a silent reassurance that so did she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this chapter was a really tricky one to write!
> 
> It took me a while to figure out what exactly Sam and Ruth were going say to each other; it was especially difficult figuring out the real reason behind Ruth's insecurity surrounding her career in season 3.
> 
> Your thoughts on this chapter would mean the absolute world me (compliments and criticisms alike!) so feel free to leave them down in the comments-- I'm always looking to improve on my writing!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading guys! xx


	5. The Challenge

**Sam**

  
  


Having spent the night (now, thankfully, 1,552 miles away from Omaha) releasing the year-long sexual tension between them, rather spectacularly, Sam began to feel a far more different thrill than the one he had felt only a few hours before. Gazing at Ruthーfrom the considerable vantage point of the centred dining tableーwalk comfortably through his house in his grey and green jumper and boxers, he couldn’t help but imagining many more mornings like this one. 

Domestic bliss had always seemed like a juxtaposition to him, a nicer way of saying; ‘you’ve peaked and now you’re lying to yourself’; the result of a lasting impression left by a lie in the form of a short-lived marriage, made to distract him from a crumbling career.

“Sam.”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Last night,” he grinned, pulling her onto his lap so that they were nose-to-nose, “and how beautiful you look,” she laughed as his kissed her neck, “and how I’d like toー”

“It’s official,” Justine yelled from the hall, as the front door slammed closed, “Billy has put TEN FUCKINGー oh hi Ruth.” 

“Hi Justine.” Ruth smiled, untangling herself from Sam, before murmuring something about pouring herself some coffee, a move she often seemed to use in the presence of any Sylvia-Biagi family awkwardness. 

“So I take it Omaha went well?” Justine smirked, her arms crossed, looking Sam up and down. 

“It did.”

“I was right then?”

“Fine, yes Justine, you were right.”

“Good, because I didn’t fancy the film’s chances with a mopey director.”

“Oh,” Sam scoffed, “so you bullying me into going to Omaha was a business move then?”

“Yeah, well, that and it would be pretty cool to have Ruth as a step-mom.” Justine smirked, watching triumphantly as Sam proceeded to choke on his coffee.

“Fuck, Justine,” He hissed, checking the kitchen door to see if Ruth was out of ear shot, “that, that’s notー”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say old man.”

Grumbling incoherently, Sam reached for his nicotine lozenges, deciding to opt for sulking indignantly rather than having to admit that a similar thought hadn’t  _ not  _ crossed his mind. 

“Step-mom, huh?” Ruth smirked unsurely, leaning against the kitchen door, coffee in hand.

“Shit, Ruth, JustineーJustineーshe, she,” Sam stammered, frantically, turning around for some support only to see Justine mutter her excuses and make a break for it out the front door, “is a little shit.” He growled to himself. 

“Listen, Ruth, fuck, she didn’t mean it, okay?”

“Sam, Sam,” Ruth laughed, “it’s fine. I’m just glad she’s happy with us dating. What’s wrong with you?”

Sam couldn’t count how many times he’d heard that question before, in far less tender tones.

“I don’t know, Ruth.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes, thinking of the heartache he felt when he drove away from her, the taste of her lips still on his, “I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What?” Ruth laughed, nervously.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ruth’s teeth clenched.

“I’m not a nice guy Ruth. Remember? Even when I liked youー when I fell in love with youー I treated you like shit.”

“You’re not like that anymore Sam.”

“Oh? So I’m not just some Hollywood sleazebag?”

“No!” She cried, sinking onto the sofa, hands in her hair.

“Look, Ruth,” Sam’s tone softened, “I wasn’t Tom Grant, but I was a piece of work. I still am and you know it. I dread the day, Ruth, when you realise that I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh and I’m perfect?” She snarled, standing up, “I fucked my best friend’s husband, the same best friend who just offered me a job directing my own fucking TV show. I’ve hurt so many people; you, Debbie, Russell, Randy. Fuck, if I hadn’t gone to that stupid fucking meeting with Tom fucking Grant, none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have had to do the same shitty floor show over and over again each night! If you think you’re not worthy of me, then fucking think again Sam, I don’t deserve you!”

“Ruth,” His voice so quiet that it made Ruth wish he was yelling, “don’t you dare blame yourself for Vegas. He was the fucking scum of the Earth.” His voice rising to his usual loud, exasperated tone, “ Even if you hadn’t gone to that meeting, who’s to say that he wouldn’t have invited someone else? Or kill the show for any other petty reason that would make him feel a bit better about himself and his shitty little station. Odds are that I would have pissed him off to the point that he either put us at 2AM or set fire to the fucking gym.”

Ruth snorted, a smile slowly forming.

“What Ruth?” Sam huffed.

“Look at us!” She laughed, “We’re arguing over who’s the shittier person, Sam!” Waving her arms up, as if the absurdity of their argument was a tangible object floating in the air, “Maybe we really are just two okay people, who have done some considerably shitty stuff in their lives, but despite everything, happen to be perfect for one another.”

Sam scanned her face suspiciously then grinned, “Yeah, I like that.” Closing the distance between them, he kissed her, deciding that, should she ever come to her senses,  _ this  _ was entirely worth the heartbreak. 

Ruth laughed against his mouth, “You know, if we’re going to give us a shot, I really should give you back your watch.”

“Keep it.” He murmured, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

“Sam, you said it was a loan!”

“It is,” He chuckled, “but you can’t get away from me that easily when you still have my watch.”

“Why don’t you just marry me then?” She challenged him, smirking. 

Without missing a beat, he retorted, “Maybe I will.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry this chapter's taken a bit longer to publish than the others. I wanted to make sure I had tied up all the loose ends I could left by the show. I'll be back with a brief epilogue as soon as I can!
> 
> How did you guys like Ruth's impromptu proposal?


	6. Epilogue

**Ruth**

“ーthen you’ll need you to go into a reserve, to a clothesline,” Ruth demonstrated along side Debbie, surrounded by, both old and new, GLOW girls, “a hip toss and then for the big finale, a crossbody!”

“It’s simple really.” Debbie huffed, having only briefly swapped her office wear for her leotard, much to the new additions of GLOW’s surprise, after Ruth relentlessly nagged her to come back for one last hurrah. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I’ll end up with a broken back after this?” Artie cringed, looking over at Melrose, who was paying absolutely no attention to the match they were supposed to rehearse within the next few minutes. 

“At least this time round,” a gruff voice called out, “ Bash Howard Productions can actually afford to give health insurance!”

“Which,” Ruth laughed, jogging over to Sam, their daughter gurgling in his arms, “we won’t need.”

“Someone wanted to see you.” He smirked.

“Hm,” she smirked in return, placing a kiss on his lips before taking August Sylvia-Wilder into her arms, “someone getting bored at home?”

“You wish.” 

Before she could retort, a hurricane of glitter and leotards surrounded themselves around August and whisked her way before either of her parents could get a word in edgewise.

Wrapping her arms around Sam, Ruth grinned, knowing that they’d never have to worry about babysitting with August’s self-proclaimed GLOW aunts fawning over her every move and babble. 

“So, why did you come by?”

“What, do I need a reason to visit my fianceé at work?”

Ruth raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to fold.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “Justine’s finally back in townー”

“Where was she this week?”

“Meetings for the new film in New Yorkー so I figured now would be as good a time as any to finally make an honorable woman out of you.”

“Ah, well I suppose we have delayed it long enough.” Watching Debbie try pry August away from gnawing at the neon pink ropes. 

“So, is that a yes?”

“You know, we will have to invite the girls, all of them.” She teased, knowing full well of the irony of having the quiet ceremony they both agreed on considering the expected guest list.

“Or maybe we could just elope.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, finally completed my first GLOW fanfic! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!
> 
> (August Sylvia-Wilder is a bit of a reference to August Strindberg, the playwright, in honour of Sam's nickname for Ruth!)


End file.
